


Intermission: The Haystack

by mmmuse



Series: Six Months:  Journey to Love [6]
Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: Biting, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hair-pulling, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 13:05:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5164901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmuse/pseuds/mmmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“…She nodded again, remembering their first day apart after their marriage when he’d found her in the barn and they’d taken one another in the haystack…”  <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5036572">1 July, part 1 of Six Months -- Journey to Love</a></p><p>...He caught a glimpse of the haystack on the opposite side of the barn and remembered, with blistering clarity, the evening he and Demelza had made use of it, coming together with more passion and hunger than either of them had been able to harness long enough to make it inside to their bed.  <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5143403">25 July, part 6 of Six Months -- Journey to Love</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Intermission: The Haystack

**Author's Note:**

> This piece follows my previous works and may reference a bit or a bob from them (from time to time) but I think this series could be a standalone. That said, if you'd like to see what has come before, click [here](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmuse) for my works. If there IS a piece to read before this, read [One Night.](http://archiveofourown.org/series/321026). 
> 
> I’ve referenced a little scene that takes place off camera, so to speak, involving a haystack a couple of times in this story. I received a request from Jackie to find out what actually happened during this little interlude. Several independent research forays into episode 5 of Desperate Romantics later and… well… Please fasten your seat belts. And if explicit sexual language makes you uncomfortable, then I suggest you skip this and wait for the next part.
> 
> P.S. It also addresses some of the questions I left unanswered at the end of 6 o'clock.

Ross pinched the bridge of his nose between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. “Your pardon, Henshawe, what did you say again?”

Captain Henshawe arched a brow at Ross’s question, a knowing smirk creasing his expressive face. “Ross, that’s the third time you’ve asked me to tell you the tonnage of stone moved this week past.” He clapped a hand on Ross’s shoulder. “Go on home to your new bride. You’re no good to us here right now.”

Ross looked incredulously from Henshawe to the shorter man on his right. Zacky Martin’s face was carefully schooled into the countenance of a man who knew better than to laugh, even at his best friend. The incredulity morphed into a scowl within seconds. “Dammit, gentlemen, I am not so far gone as to be incapable of conducting business when called to do so!” he growled.

Zacky snorted, composure abandoned. “Yes, you _are_ , Ross” he said with a laugh, clapping him on the shoulder. “Go home to your wife.”

Ross glared at his friend for a moment before he sighed and nodded. “All right, gentlemen, I will see you in the morning.” Fighting the urge to adjust the fit of his breeches for the hundredth time, he stalked off towards the spot they housed the horses during the day.

Captain Henshawe was right; he hadn’t been much good to them at that moment, or even earlier, for that matter. The truth of the matter was Ross Poldark, Esquire, owner of Wheal Leisure and master of Nampara Cottage, was a very newly married man with other thoughts on his mind; thoughts that had kept him in a near-constant state of arousal for the past nine hours.

He’d married his kitchen maid Demelza little more than a day before and had spent most of that day engaged in the kind of sex that would make any man weak with envy. His new bride had been curious, animated, sensual and open to exploring whatever ideas had come to his mind. And when it came to pleasure, Ross had a voracious appetite.

It was this appetite – and the imagination that fed it – that caused him to wince frequently, the fabric of his fine fawn coloured breeches stretched tight across the erection that came and went with almost every breath. He’d been bedevilled by it throughout his morning in Truro, diminished only slightly during his meeting with Pascoe. He supposed it made sense not to be aroused whilst discussing his will, although the reason for its revision haunted the corners of his mind enough to make him fidget. The problem returned with a vengeance by the time he’d arrived at the mine for the afternoon. Suffice it to say, it was fortunate he hadn’t been needed down one of the shafts today; he would have had a devil of a time trying to explain why he was wearing his great coat forty feet underground.

Images of his night with Demelza played through his mind as he galloped Darkie towards home: watching her as she sat astride him, breasts golden from the candlelight, bobbing and swaying with their thrusts; in the kitchen when she had him in her mouth; this morning when he’d slipped into her welcoming body from behind, seen the shocked look on her face change to delight and ecstasy.

He remembered how he’d wished to linger abed afterwards, for a while at least, before the harsh reality of the day was upon them, yet she’d risen and left their bed. It had puzzled him at first, for she had been more than eager to explore the new found intimate explorations she had been granted by their marrying. And then it had continued, this distancing, into the morning, when the siren of the night was almost lost, and she seemed to become the kitchen maid again.

Would he find the kitchen maid when he arrived? Would she not want him? The thought was absurd, he told himself, yet a part of his mind latched onto this kernel of uncertainty with talons of iron. His brow furrowed, and he wondered what kind of reception he would receive.

The horse stumbled, whinnying sharply, bringing Ross from his thoughts. He could hear the pounding of his heart in his ears, despite the churn of the sea beside him as he reined in the horse to a stop. He swung out of the saddle, gasping at the tightness of his loins and quite merrily wished to dive into the cold water of the cove, just to cool down his overheated brain and body. He checked the horse’s front right leg: she’d thrown a shoe. He walked back and located the horseshoe on the path, thankfully undamaged, and stuck it into his pocket.

One thing was for certain, it would take him twice as long to get home as before. Dammit!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Thank you, Jud,” Demelza said, watching the male servant carry her horse’s saddle over to the tack room. She’d been out practicing her riding and had returned home to finish preparations for supper. Ross would be home soon and she was determined to prepare him a meal he would appreciate. _And, perhaps, offer yourself for dessert?_ a voice in her head purred. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, shaking the fantasy of Ross and her – naked and entwined on the parlour table, skin damp and sticky with sweat and the remnants of an apple pie – from her imaginings and begrudgingly focused her attention on Jud.

He dropped the saddle onto the bench with a thud and squinted at her through his pale grey lashes. “What’re you peering at, _mistress_?” he sneered at her, speech slurred with drink.

He’d been sneering at her all day, muttering comments under his breath and stating his opinion of her change in station – t’aint fit, t’aint fair, t’aint right t’aint proper – enough to make her head ache. The fact he’d already been into Ross’s liquor had not gone unnoticed by her and she felt her temper rising. She’d been doing her best to remain civil to both Jud and Prudie today and it had required more energy than she cared to admit. Prudie hadn’t been as bad as Jud, but following the conversation they had about Prudie’s new responsibilities, the kind woman who’d helped her with her gown and had gone through all the trouble to put vases of flowers in her new bedchamber, was nowhere to be seen. And while the chores had been started, they had certainly not been completed to Demelza’s satisfaction.

SHE was mistress of Nampara. Enough was enough. “Jud, if my being mistress distresses you so greatly, I suggest you and Prudie go amuse yourself in Sawle this evening. It will do us all good!”

Jud blinked at her for a moment before turning on his heel and walking out of the barn just as his wife approached. He grabbed Prudie’s arm and hauled her down the drive, leaving Demelza to tend to Rose herself.

Demelza watched their retreating backs with a sense of relief so overwhelming it made her light headed. Even if she paid later for rewarding their abysmal behaviour with the evening off, she would enjoy this moment of peace from the Paynters; if only for a few hours.

She picked up the currycomb and went over to Rose’s stall. The pretty mare whinnied at her approach, making Demelza smile. “Hello, my Rose,” she crooned to the horse, running her hand and the comb over the horse’s warm flanks. Demelza watched as the skin and hair twitched under her hands as she worked. It made her remember the muscular, shuddering flesh she’d had under her hands the night before. Memories of how Ross’s chest felt under her palms as she sat astride him, his erection hard, the fit tight within her body, made her press her knees together. She squeezed her thighs together in a vain effort to ease the tension that had grown within her body over the course of the day.

Ross had left to attend to business shortly after she’d returned from her morning walk. They’d attended to the conversation they needed to have with the Paynters, who had returned late from Mellon. It had been easy for Demelza to focus on being attentive to the business at hand which, in turn, had helped her to focus on building up her defences to guard her heart. However, within hours she knew she was facing a losing battle. The minute she would feel that she was making headway, one more memory from their wedding night would fling her right back to the start; watching him as he stroked himself, thinking she was asleep, the look in his eyes as he bent to taste her, his tongue bathing her sex with its roughness. She thought of him as she stripped the sheets from their bed, the scent of their lovemaking still heady in them. And she’d raised his pillow to her face, breathing in the smell of his hair and skin, wishing he were with her then and there, so she could touch him and kiss him and taste him and swallow him…

She needed his hands on her flesh, and would take her own hand to squeeze her breast, imagining it was him who held her so. She was reminded of their time together, once again, when she’d got onto her horse; her legs stiff, the inside of her thighs bruised from his sharp hipbones, the flesh of her sex still tender to the touch. And yet, the rolling gait of the horse had only served to rouse her desire even more.

Her body throbbed with longing for him, and he’d only been gone for a few hours.

No, she wouldn’t be able to maintain the cool façade she’d attempted to create earlier that day. She conceded the fight almost before it started. She knew she would always have a concern about Elizabeth; she had been his first love, after all. Demelza would just have to be careful with her heart without trying to be something she wasn’t. She would be who she was with him, and be thankful for the kindness he showed her, and for the mutual enjoyment they shared while they were abed.

The comb swept over Rose’s opposite flank now. She bent, reaching to brush the skin low on her belly when she heard something. She looked over her shoulder and saw him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ross patience with Darkie was nearing an end, and he chided himself for it. The horse hadn’t planned on throwing a shoe, of course. He had been right, though; it had taken them twice as long to make the half-mile trip to Nampara from the mine. During that time, he had ample time to remember everything there was to know about the way Demelza’s breasts felt in his hands, how the nape of her neck tasted. He remembered the little sounds she made when he touched her bud, so slick and swollen, with his tongue. And he remembered how tight and welcoming her sex was for his, how it gripped him and stroked him and it made his want for her nearly spiral out of control.

His balls ached with the memories. He finally stopped at the gate and pressed the palm of his hand hard against his erection in the hopes of easing some of the intensity of his arousal, only to find himself thrusting against his hand, spurring the need instead.

Cursing under his breath, he walked with considerable difficulty into the yard and headed towards the barn, Darkie in tow. He could re-shoe her in the morning and made a mental note to contact the smith the next time he was in Sawle. The change in subject helped to ease some of his arousal so he ran through a list of the things that needed to be accomplished for the week. He was running through this list when he reached the barn door and saw her.

She was bent over, busily currying Rose, humming sweetly. She wore her  
old yellow striped gown, her body swayed with the rhythm of her task, hypnotic and erotic at the same time. Ross groaned. All of the inroads he’d made at curbing his need went up in smoke. The sound he made must have been audible because she looked over her shoulder, bright green eyes finding his within seconds. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair, wild and untamed, framed her face, several strands clinging to the back of her neck, damp with sweat. The pulse in his cock grew heavier in response.

 

Suddenly, Demelza saw him, as though summoned. His body silhouetted by the light coming in from the sun. He took one more step forward, blocking the glare of the sun and his features became clear; his long, curling black hair, dishevelled from the removal of his hat, full lips slightly parted, his straight nose and eyes near black in shadow. Her eyes moved lower past his broad chest and flat stomach before resting on the broad, heavy erection that appeared to threaten the fabric of his breeches. A cascade of need pooled between her thighs and she felt her nipples tighten against her stays.

 

Ross’s breath was laboured as he walked Darkie over to her stall. He could see the pulse beating in Demelza’s throat, the flush that had blossomed up her chest then to her cheeks. His eyes never left hers, even as he tied Darkie's lead to the post. He turned, facing her, and slowly tugged on each finger of the brown leather gloves, freeing his hands. The leather was supple from years of wear, hugging his fingers like a second skin. He watched as her eyes flicked down to watch him. Her tongue stole out to lick her lips and his heart felt as though it would pound straight out of his chest.

 

Demelza’s body began to tremble, in a way she’d never experienced before, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Her eyes were riveted on the slow, tantalizing removal of his gloves, revealing the strong hands she loved so much; long fingered, confident in his caresses. Memories filled her mind of those hands removing her clothing, caressing her breasts, holding her thighs apart as he bent his head to taste and feast on her sex. He squeezed the gloves in his fist, the sound of the straining leather reaching her ears even from the distance between them. Her gasp rose up her throat and out from between her parted lips. She flicked her gaze up to his face, took in the slight smile that curved the corner of his mouth and the knowing look in his green-black gaze and she knew he was well aware of her need. The wetness from her sex dampened the inside of her thighs and the flesh between her legs felt thick and swollen, aching for him.

 

Ross took one step, then another before he was across the barn, hauling her up against him, lifting her until her feet left the ground. She wrapped her legs around his waist, the pressure of her body against his cock making him shudder with near-blinding lust. He took her mouth with his, each making a feast of their lips and tongues. Her hands clutched at his head, fingers spearing into his hair to pull him closer. Teeth clicked against each other in their frenzy to taste and sample. He wrenched his mouth from hers, biting his way down her neck to her shoulder, knowing she’d be marked and not caring in the least.

He was beyond need. He must possess her, to claim her body, now. “Demelza,” he rasped, his hands clenching her buttocks, holding her still as he thrust against her. “I must have you, now.”

 

Demelza panted raggedly, nodding her head, not trusting her voice. All she knew was she had to have him inside her or perish. It was as simple as that.

 

Ross pulled back to stare into her face, lightly setting her down onto her feet. “Tell me, Demelza,” he ordered, his fingers gripping her shoulders. “I want the words from you, now.”

 

“Y-yes, R-ross,” she stuttered, her voice low and dark with need, “I want you now.”

 

Ross’s nostrils flared, oxygen flooding his overheated brain, as her words sent waves of desire pulsing through his groin. He grasped her hand and looked towards the house. It seemed a mile away. He would never make it that far. She moaned, and he turned to see her pressed up against him, their clasped hands nestled against the mound of her sex. He felt her rubbing against the knuckles of his hand and had to close his eyes, the blood flooding his cock nearing the breaking point.

 

“Now, Ross,” Demelza begged, “please…”

 

“Where are Jud and Prudie?” Ross gasped, reaching to unbutton his waistcoat and remove his cravat, his eyes fixed on the haystack they kept near the back door of the barn.

 

Demelza’s eyes followed his gaze, instantly realizing his intention and moaned. “S-sawle,” she stammered, “I sent them to Sawle for the evening,” Her fingers joined his to assist him with the buttons.

 

Ross looked at her in surprise and kissed her ferociously. “Smart girl,” he whispered in her ear before pulling her by the hand to the haystack. It was a pile of loose hay, with several waist-high tied bales surrounding the loose for stability. He drew her into the loose hay, struggling to wrench the greatcoat and topcoat off his body. He laid them across the bale stack wall. She looked at him, confused. He brought his mouth down upon hers mercilessly while his fingers attacked the hooks at the front of her gown. He felt the tails of his shirt being pulled up and out of back of his breeches before her hands, warm and slightly roughened from work, streaked up around his waist to clasp around his back. He reached the last hook and, failing to release it, tore the dress to her navel. The sound shocked them both into rasping laughter that disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. He yanked the string at the top of her shift and pulled the neckline open enough for him to free her breasts. They sat high against her stays, an offering. He pressed her back against the bales and feasted on the soft flesh, tipped with diamond hard nipples that beckoned him to nip and tease them with his teeth.

 

She moaned, the rasp of his unshaven cheek against the skin between her breasts making her circle her hips against the heavy thigh wedged between her legs. She continued to pull and yank on his shirt until it came free from the front of his breeches. He leaned back, reaching over his shoulders to wrench the material up and over his head to land on the ground then leaned forward to continue the mad sucking of her breasts. Her hands threaded through his hair, her breath coming out in harsh pants against the crown of his head.

 

He pulled away from her, unable to wait any longer. “Need you now, Demelza,” he rasped, unbuttoning the drop front of his breeches, exposing his swollen cock to the June breeze and her hungry gaze. “Turn around.”

 

She thought she knew what he intended. She’d seen the way animals mated and had wondered if humans could come together like that as well. She had been shocked at the feelings those thoughts stirred within her. “Turn around?” she said, her voice reedy in her own ears. “Like… like animals?”

 

Ross nodded, not trusting his voice. He cleared his throat, stepped up close to her and leaned down to speak in her ear. “Yes, Demelza.” His voice was dark, gravelly. “Like animals.”

 

His words sent a rush of lust burning through Demelza, her imagination running riot. The pulse in her sex beat heavily at his words and she raised her eyes to meet his. His eyes were black, fixed on her mouth; his hand holding his rigid length, swollen with need. “Show me, Ross,” she panted.

 

Ross shuddered, panting as he reached for her, whipping her around, bending her forward to lie against the tied bales. He reached down to shove her skirts and petticoats up to her waist and nearly came on the spot. Her naked ass, full and ivory in the sunlight, as tempting as a ripe peach, the shadow of her sex, wetness glistening on the inside of her thighs, her legs long and lithe, encased in ribbon topped stockings. He closed his eyes, placed one foot between her feet and nudged her legs apart.

 

She gasped. She could feel the heat of him nestled between the crack of her buttocks, thrusting insistently. His hands massaged the cheeks of her buttocks while he thrust between them, and it made her writhe, pressing her hips back against him. She felt his right hand leave her rump to bring the broad head of his penis prodding closer to her weeping centre. Instinctively, she arched her back and widened her stance.

 

Ross stepped closer and thrust home, hard and to the hilt in one stroke. She screamed into the hay as she came. Her sex clenched around him, squeezing him like a fist. The hairs all along his arms and back of his neck stood erect as the waves of her orgasm stroked and gripped his cock. The tightness of her body stroked him relentlessly, driving him further and further into the realm of unseeing lust. He gasped and groaned, his hands coming down to clasp her hips as he thrust again, and again, each time more animalistic than the next. His words, holy and profane, streamed inarticulate from his lips as he pounded his cock inside her. “Jesus, Demelza…can’t think…all day…Christ, so tight…could go on…fucking you forever…”

 

She’d lost count of the number of times she’d come. She leaned heavily against the bales, her legs barely capable of holding her upright against the onslaught of his body inside hers. His words made her burn hotter, even as she winced at the tightness of his hands on her hips. Just then, one of his hands left her hip, reached up and grasped the hair at the back of her head, pulling her back towards him. She arched back, the pull on her hair shocking and erotic.

 

Ross shuddered, his hand full of Demelza’s red-gold mane, as she arched back against him. His hand left her hair to join its twin, clenching and fondling her breasts, pinching her nipples while his teeth bit her nape. She came again, bathing his cock with wetness that nearly sent him over the edge. It spurred him on, the knowledge he could pleasure her like this. “You like that, my girl?” he gasped in her ear. “Like for me to grab you, to bite you?”

 

“Y-yes, Ross!” Demelza cried out, near weeping. His words made her head spin with desire. His hands on her breasts, her nipples pinched between his fingers, the strength of his sex surging in and out of her body, slick with her body’s dew.

 

His right hand released her hip to grasp her right buttock, squeezing it as he drove his cock into her body. He slapped it, relishing the sharp sting of the contact on his palm and the jerk of her body in response, and it fed his own desire. “Did you like that, Demelza?” he asked as he did it again, and heard her moan. He felt his heart pounding in his ears, his thighs shaking from his thrusts. “Like for me to spank you, my dear?” She nodded her head frantically, moans rippling from her throat with every thrust. “Like for me to fuck you, Demelza?” Ross all but growled in her ear.

 

“Yes!” she wailed, her hands braced on the hay bale, thrusting back against him in time with his. “Please!” She reached for her bud, madly stroking until she sobbed her release up towards the rafters.

 

Ross held her hips still in his hands while he continued to pummel her sex with his, each thrust fuelling his unrelenting need, building towards an oblivion that was just within his grasp. “ _Mine_ ,” he shouted as he thrust wildly, feeling the walls of her sex grip him once more. His inner thighs quivered with the inevitability of his climax. “You’re _mine_ ,” he gasped as the first jet of semen left his body. His knees weakened as he cried out his release, and they fell against the bales of hay, Ross’s hips jerking involuntarily, over and over against hers as she squeezed him dry.

Ross’s legs collapsed, unable to stand any longer, and they slid down from the hay bales into the thick, lofting piles of loose hay next to them. He drew her body close to his, spooning her against him as their breathing continued to rage in their chests. His head swam, light and ecstatic as they lay in the hayloft. He’d never in his life experienced anything like he’d just had with her. If it been a fantasy, it would have far exceeded anything he could have thought of. He looked down at her, his bride of one day. Her red-gold hair fell in a riot of curls around her head; strewn with pieces of hay he knew she’d be finding in the morning, her cheeks flushed with pleasure, lips bruised from his kisses.

He was, in a word, replete. She snuggled her hips back against his and he chuckled.

“Ross?” she purred, turning her head so she could see his face. “What’s so funny?”

He thrust his hips.

“Oh!” she squeaked, shifting her body to lie facing him, sliding her stocking-clad leg up and around his hip. “Well, I might require some more convincing…”

He looked down at her, incredulous for the second time that day and pulled her closer. “And I shall endeavour to oblige.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the kudos and comments -- please keep them coming, and be honest about your thoughts on this one. This is probably the steamiest thing I've written in close to five years. Many thanks to Jackie for her beta on this. She really helped to flesh... to expand... well, God. She really challenged me to make this a better piece. OH GOD. Time for a cold shower. 
> 
> Thanks, Jackie -- really love working with you on these! 
> 
> Find me on twitter @mmmusings or on tumbr @mmmuses


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